


His Naughty Demon

by ComfortingAngel



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Declarations Of Love, Discipline, Dom/sub Undertones, First Time, Fluff, Gentle Dom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Going the right way for a smacked bottom, Light BDSM, Longing, Love, M/M, Making Love, Mild Angst, Sex, Sexual Tension, Smut, Spanking, Sub Crowley (Good Omens), Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), Unexpectedly sweet and emotional, mild spanking, over the knee spanking, sofa sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:00:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24824224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ComfortingAngel/pseuds/ComfortingAngel
Summary: They have missed each other through lockdown. Crowley told Aziraphale he'd go to bed and set his alarm for July to survive lockdown. But Crowley, away from his angel, was unable to sleep or relax, and one night went out for a drive and a quick temptation... and got himself into trouble. Aziraphale is not happy, but soon realises just what his demon needs, not to mention what they both need.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 23
Kudos: 227





	His Naughty Demon

'Inside!' came Aziraphale's sharp tone as the door to the shop opened. A sheepish Crowley slunk inside, braced for a telling off.

'What were you thinking?' asked the angel sternly, slamming the door behind him. '125 miles per hour?! I know you’re a demon and you’re supposed to be up to no good,’ he said. ‘But you should know better than to risk lives, especially at a time like this.’

Crowley cringed. 'I didn’t realise. There are fewer cars so I had... less to judge by.’

'And vandalising that statue? You’ve been very foolish, Crowley. I’m very unhappy with you.'

Crowley pouted himself into a devastating duck-face at the admonishment.

'I thought you were keeping out of trouble and taking a nap?'

'Woke up. Got bored,' he said with a sullen shrug.

‘Crowley!’ scolded Aziraphale.

Crowley wiggled a bit. 'I can just leave.'

'Oh no you don't,' chided Aziraphale sternly. 'I’m keeping you where I can see you, you wily serpent.'

Crowley frowned and pouted, pushing his hands into his pockets like a moody teen.

'Sit,' said Aziraphale firmly.

Crowley skulked over to the sofa and sat down with a huff. Aziraphale watched as mischief glimmered in Crowley's eyes. 'You gonna open something then? Rioja?'

'Crowley!' complained Aziraphale, starting to grow tired of scolding his friend. 

'What?' whined the demon.

'You do not deserve any wine. You’ve been...'

Crowley raised his eyebrows, waiting to see which adjective the angel would choose. 'Reckless? Fiendish? Evil? Terrible?'

'Naughty!' chided the angel crossly, trying to resist the urge to give the demon a swat. 

'Oh what are you going to do? Send me to bed with a smacked bottom?'

'Don’t tempt me!' said Aziraphale, feeling extremely tempted.

'Well, it is my job, angel.' 

Aziraphale glared at him, then, still trying to control his temper, wordlessly fetched a bottle of wine and opened it. 'Leave that to breathe for a moment,' he muttered.

'That's more like it,' said Crowley with glee. 'See, you can't stay mad at me.' He winked.

Aziraphale responded to that by reaching over and slapping Crowley's wrist.

'Hey!' Crowley cried, then rubbed the back of his hand (it hardly hurt) as the angel went about the business of locking up the shop. 'I don’t know why you’re so cross. You sent those juveniles away with cake,' said Crowley. It came out as a whine. 'They were breaking lockdown and stealing from you!'

Aziraphale came to stand in front of the demon with his hands on his hips. Crowley shrank back into the sofa a little.

'They were young humans who I knew would benefit from some compassion,' said the angel steadily. 'You should know better - do know better - and you still behaved badly.'

Crowley, finally, appeared chastened. He frowned at his boots for a few moments before speaking. 'Sorry, angel,' he mumbled, at his shoes. 

There was a dramatic sigh from Aziraphale, before he too gave in to defeat. He went into the kitchen and returned with two wine glasses, then silently sat down next to Crowley, still glaring his displeasure at the demon.

'Well. It is nice to be able to share a bottle,' he said, pouring the wine. 'Here you go.' His tone was still short, but Crowley knew better than to challenge it, so quietly accepted the wine and hoped the moment would grow into something more comfortable.

It didn't.

'You should have called me,' said Aziraphale.

'You said not to come here.'

'I didn’t say you couldn’t call.'

Crowley sulked into his wine.

'And what am I supposed to tell my head office?' continued the angel. 'That I was tricked into believing you were having a snooze whilst vandalism of an historic monument took place?' 

'It’s good vandalism, angel!' 

'There's no such thing.'

'Yes there is! You know who that statue's of. You remember him. He was one of ours. Utter wanker. Why would you defend him?'

Aziraphale thought for a moment. Yes, the statue was of a terrible person. But... rules. Aziraphale sipped his wine. 'I’m not sure my lot see it like that,' he said. 

Crowley huffed.

'Now, now. You’ve put me in an awkward position,' said Aziraphale seriously.

'Because you didn’t thwart me?'

'Not only that, I’m the one that posted your bail.' 

'They won’t know, angel. That’s the whole point. No miracles, no red flags. I’ll make it up to you.'

'Hmph,' said Aziraphale. He gave Crowley a withering glare. 'So naughty.'

Crowley shifted in his seat. 'Don’t be angry, angel. I just needed to get out and about.'

'Honestly, if I didn’t know better I might assume you did this because you…'

'Because what?!'

'Because you wanted my attention.' The angel's blue eyes were dangerous.

Crowley scowled and looked away for a moment, before staring into his glass of wine.

'Crowley?'

' _What?_ '

'Did you do this on purpose so I’d have to… collect you.'

'Course not.' He was still staring into his wine. He'd thought of nothing else other than drinking wine with Aziraphale for what felt like all the centuries that lockdown had gone on for.

'Was that a lie?'

Crowley shifted again. 'I didn't... do it on purpose. They told me I could have a phone call. Wasn't gonna call Beelzebub, was I.' 

'And vandalising that statue?'

Crowley plonked the wine onto the table. 'It wasn’t me, angel! I just, made a suggestion to the kids!'

Aziraphale's mouth fell open. 

'But you said… you told the police that...'

'I didn’t know the police were gonna show up, did I? Told them to run for it.'

The room suddenly hummed with a strange light, which Crowley eyed suspiciously before realising it was the bloody angel and his stupid love. 

'You took the blame,' said Aziraphale sweetly. 

Crowley picked his wine back up and took a good, long swig, draining the glass. 'Well… they’re all young, trying to dismantle ancient, messed up systems. I get it. But didn’t want them to get criminal records.' He glanced at his angel, who was looking soft again. His. Soft. Angel. He quickly looked away. 'Would have given them cake if I could,' he said as a quick throw away remark.

'Ah.'

'That is your methodology, isn't it? Sending naughty boys home with cake?' He added quietly, 'unless they're me.'

Aziraphale sighed. 'I see,' he said, not sure that he actually did see but starting to feel bad about giving Crowley a slapped wrist rather than cake. 'Well my baking days are on hiatus, as it was becoming…'

'Diabetic?' ventured Crowley.

Aziraphale gave a slight nod and rubbed his tummy. 'Well it’s no fun baking just for yourself. Not really. And I wasn’t expecting you.'

Crowley was determined to keep it light this time. 'But, if you had expected me, what would you have baked?'

'Rock cakes.'

'Ha,' said Crowley happily. He did love rock cakes. 'Really?' 

'Yes. I remember you like those. And rock pools, from that time at the beach.' Aziraphale smiled at the happy memory, then remembered he was supposed to be dealing with a wayward demon. 'But you’ve been very naughty so you’re not having anything. You’re lucky to get wine.'

Crowley sighed both dramatically and tragically, which Aziraphale ignored. 'I can't still be in trouble,' he grumbled, mildly slurring.

'You’re always in trouble,' said the angel, topping up his wine, but not Crowley's.

'I'll leave, then,' sulked Crowley.

'No, you won't,' said Aziraphale, sternly. 'You are staying where I can see you. At least until you can explain why you told me you were having a nap until July and then turned up in police custody. 

Crowley scowled then reached for the bottle and slopped in some more wine. Aziraphale opened his mouth to point out to the demon he was already a little squiffy, but thought better of it.

'I couldn’t sssleep, angel,' said Crowley. 'Haven't slept. Days. Weeks. Months. Can't. Can't sssleep. Stupid brain. Lots of ideas and nowhere to go. I normally tell you the ideas. Couldn't sleep. So I went for a drive.'

'At 125 miles per hour?'

Crowley wiggled guiltily. 'No one else was on the roads,' he said feebly, slurping from his glass. 

'That’s not the point,' scolded Aziraphale.

Crowley pouted into his wine.

'It sets a bad example, and there are enough restless humans zooming about at night using the streets as a racetrack while it’s quiet without your encouragement. Not to mention if you’d had an accident it puts more strain on our emergency services.'

'Ugh, angel, leave it out!' He knocked back the rest of his wine and stood, a little unsteadily. ‘I'll get a cab home.’

'Oh no you don’t!' said Aziraphale sharply, tugging him back down. Crowley, a little worse for wear now, came back down all too easily and almost collapsed onto his angel, who rescued his own glass of wine and the clothing it nearly spilled on just in time. Propping up a droopy demon, Aziraphale quickly got the glasses and a treasured first edition out of harm's way. He looked down, ready to harshly scold Crowley, but was met with big, sad, yellow eyes gazing up at him, and a demonic chin resting on his arm. 

Crowley tried to speak. 'Don't you wamme to go away and leave you alone to your bookssss and rulesss and pavlovasss and angel stuff?' slurred Crowley pathetically, all the while with a protruding lower lip. 

‘I told you I’m not letting you out of my sight.'

Crowley, somehow, pouted even more. ''coz imma very naughty demon?'

'Yes,' said Aziraphale, trying to remain stern, despite some swelling amusement. 'You've been a very naughty demon and I'm very cross. You clearly need me.'

Crowley slumped completely, forcing Aziraphale to reposition him. The demon grumbled something indistinctly, not entirely minding being manhandled. ‘Not naughty,’ he slurred. ‘Did good job. Demonic job. Am good demon.’ He gazed up innocently, still leaning on his angel, and Aziraphale was reminded of a soppy black Labrador he’d once adopted.

‘I suppose that’s a matter of perspective,’ chided Aziraphale gently, unable to stop himself from putting his arm around the collapsed lump of demon, who cuddled up instinctively. He was also unable to stop himself from patting Crowley’s pert bottom which had found its way to being in easy reach. ‘But you know very well it’s my job to thwart you.’

'Bit late,' mumbled Crowley. 'Loser.' 

Aziraphale could not resist responding with a significantly firmer pat to Crowley's behind. The demon purred as he burrowed into him. ‘Drunk, angel.’

‘Yes, you are. I expect you’ve worn yourself into the ground with all that demonic energy, and imploded at the first sign of relaxation.’

‘Sleeeep.’

Aziraphale frowned. Crowley was indeed starting to drop off. After all these months, he was finally a sleepy snake, and Aziraphale realised it was something to do with him. Crowley was becoming a dead weight, albeit a light one, so Aziraphale pulled and lifted the demon so he was draped across the angel’s knees.

‘No spanking!’ grumbled Crowley, assuming the worst, but Aziraphale simply chuckled and placed a cushion under the demon’s head, before stroking the red hair. He gently patted the denim-covered buttocks again.

‘I told you I want you where I can see you,’ said Aziraphale, reaching for his wine and resting it on the demon’s bottom. Then he reached for the book he’d been reading. Crowley was now a convenient lap tray. ‘You need a rest. I’ll be right here, guarding you.’

‘Rock cakes,’ said Crowley, into the cushion.

‘No chance,’ said Aziraphale sternly. ‘You were lucky to have some wine. No rock cakes for naughty serpents, and don’t push your luck, or I _shall_ spank you.’ There was a note of humour in his voice.

Crowley turned his head to look piteously up at his angel, who was trying not to smirk. 

‘Go to sleep. Do as you’re told.’

Another grumble, but almost immediately the demon’s breathing became rhythmic, his eyes drifting closed, and Crowley fell into a good, deep sleep. 

‘My poor exhausted demon,’ murmured Aziraphale sweetly, picking up his book, and swilling his wine. He raised an eyebrow at the demonic backside upturned over his knees, but being an angel, kept his focus on his reading material.

  
\--

Aziraphale had finished his book and the wine, and was giving a particularly pesky crossword clue some thought when the demon on his lap stirred a little. 

Crowley, apparently quite unaware of his surroundings, clumsily rolled over onto his back and just lay there, fast asleep, legs akimbo and pale tummy peeping out from under his rumpled t-shirt.

Aziraphale flushed at the sight of his vulnerable demon, and thought about kissing that lily white tummy. He settled for gently rubbing it. 

Quite unexpectedly, the angel was awash with shame. Here was his closest friend in all of creation trusting him completely. Crowley had needed him, and Aziraphale had been too busy baking things to hear it in the demon’s voice. ‘I could slither on over,’ he’d said. But the angel had been too proper. He grimaced as he remember the countless offers of companionship he’d batted away due to his angelic sense of propriety, over so many centuries. And now Crowley had deliberately gotten himself into trouble, surely because it was the only way the demon could see to ending up with his angel. 

Flawed, yes. Naughty - well, always. But Aziraphale realised he was quite responsible for his friend’s misdemeanour. If he’d allowed Crowley to slink over in the first place, this wouldn’t have happened. It’s not like the demon would ever admit he’d needed help. 

Aziraphale felt a tear slide down his face as he watched his demon snooze peacefully. Poor Crowley. Not welcome in heaven. Not welcome in Hell. And due to lockdown, not welcome with his angel. 

A sleepy snuffle interrupted his painful guilt trip, and he paused lightly stroking the tummy. He looked down and frowned. Crowley’s jeans looked a little tighter in the crotch than normal. Oops. But just as Aziraphale froze, Crowley rolled onto his side, facing the angel, and curled up in the fetal position. 

‘My angel,’ he murmured.

‘I’ve got you,’ whispered Aziraphale. With every fibre of his being, the angel sent all the love he’d ever known to his naughty demon. More tears came, but they were tears of joy. Because Aziraphale realised he would never again allow his friend to feel alone. 

\--  
  


Crowley stirred. Eyes half open, he pushed himself up and tried to crawl off Aziraphale’s lap, but was simply lifted back into position, lying over the angel’s thighs. The demon seemed confused by this at first, but after blinking a few times, remembered where he was.

He turned his head and peeped up at Aziraphale, his flaming red hair sticking up on end. The angel no longer had wine, and instead had coffee. ‘How many years has it been?’ he asked.

Aziraphale sniggered. ‘It’s been 7 hours, my dear.’

‘Mmph,’ said Crowley, wiggling contentedly, going boneless in the angel’s lap. Boneless except for the bulge in his crotch which he proceeded to casually rub against a thigh.

‘Oi!’ scolded Aziraphale, giving the demon a firm smack on the bottom.

‘Mmm,’ answered Crowley. ‘You put me here.’

‘With good reason,’ said Aziraphale sternly. ‘So I might manage your behaviour.’

‘Mmm,’ said Crowley again, making eyes at his angel. He rolled his hips. ‘Gonna spank me, angel?’ he teased. 

‘You certainly need to be punished, Crowley, but a spanking seems somewhat rudimentary.’

‘Healthy for demons, though,’ drawled Crowley, rolling his hips again. He grinned in a way that could only be described as devilish. ‘Every now and again.’ 

Aziraphale sighed and rubbed the demon’s back. Perhaps he should. Perhaps that's what his friend needed. ‘I see,’ said Aziraphale. ‘Well then.’

Crowley wiggled his bottom, and Aziraphale scooched him closer to himself, holding him in place. 

‘Uh oh,’ said Crowley with delight. ‘I’m going to be spanked by an angel.’

Aziraphale said nothing, slightly irritated by being so goaded, yet also quite thrilled. That cheeky backside in those tight jeans. Before he even properly thought about it, he’d smacked Crowley none-too-gently across both buttocks. The demon gasped. Another five, perfectly measured smacks fell in steady succession, stinging him through the material. 

Crowley’s breath was taken away by surprise. It was actually happening, with no signs of stopping.

*Smack*

'Egh!'

*Smack*

'Ugh!'

*Smack*

'Ighhh!'

'You know, I think I’ve wanted to do this for some time,' said Aziraphale, enjoying himself. 

'Pervert.'

*Smack smack smack*

'Arghhk!'

' _Naughty snake_.'

*Smack*

'Ow!'

'Demonic miscreant.' 

*Smack*

Crowley wriggled and gasped, determined not to actually cry out, but also a little worried about how much more he was going to get. He had asked for it, after all, in every way possible. But just as panic arose in him, the soothing voice came. He was being scolded, of course, but by his angel, who was speaking in such a caring tone it had the same effect as a bedtime story. 

‘If you _ever_ ,’ chided Aziraphale gently, still steadily smacking the demon’s bottom. ‘Defy me like that again, you will be in trouble with me for a _decade_.’

*smack smack smack*

'Fucking sadist!' 

*SMACK*

'Nnngggfffkkkoooofffff!'

The swats ceased and Crowley found himself catching his breath. ‘Shall I remove the denim?’ the angel asked, patting the diminutive bottom. 

'Mmmhhh,' replied Crowley, into the cushion. His flesh throbbed, almost more with the loss of contact than the impact of it, and he wriggled in the angel’s lap again. He was still mildly aroused, and allowed his hips the slightest of twitches. He got a stinging smack as a consequence, and was then aware of the angel’s fingers reaching around his belt. 

‘These need to come down. Now.’ He tugged, and the demon took the hint, miracling his jeans and underpants to just below his now rosy cheeks. 

‘You were very naughty, Crowley. If you need me, you tell me. You do not go running off into the night causing trouble. You had no mandate to be tempting protesters and you did it so I’d have no option but to handle you. If you do that again, this will happen, a lot harder and a lot longer.’

And with that, Aziraphale administered the whole spanking over again on Crowley’s bared bottom. This time, Crowley couldn’t help but squeak as well as gasp, plus try to wiggle out of the way, and kick up his legs, before finally crying out that he was sorry. He hadn’t meant to lie to his angel or cause any particular bother. His flesh tingled, his mind evaporated, his hips jerked, and he knew his angel had him completely. He couldn’t control himself anymore, and the sting was growing. His hand flew between his bottom and Aziraphale’s firm palm before he could stop it, and that was the only time Aziraphale raised his voice.

‘Crowley!’ he scolded, more concerned he might hit the wrong part of his demon. Crowley tensed, retracting his hand immediately, and he shrank at the tone, focusing only on staying still for his angel. He whimpered into the cushion as a final three firm swats hit home. 

The angel’s warm hand was lightly stroking his reddened bottom now. Crowley felt like he was floating. His buttocks burned, his groin throbbed, his head was dizzy with oxygen, and he couldn’t remember how or why he could ever feel anxious about anything. Peace. He _was_ a naughty demon, but he was a naughty demon who’d been caught by his angel, and his angel would look after him. 

His breathing slowed and he became dimly aware of his naked bottom. He tried to say something but it came out as a snuffle. 

‘Up they come,’ said Aziraphale softly, sensing the demon’s embarrassment, and between them, Crowley’s clothing was miraculously restored as he lay limp, still in the angel’s lap. 

The demon looked over his shoulder and up at his angel again. 

‘I have to say,’ said Aziraphale cheerfully. ‘I found that rather satisfying.’

‘Me too,’ said Crowley, with a grin. He wiggled again, and sighed deeply. With his clothing replaced, there was some intense friction. He realised he was really quite amorous, and heat rushed to his face. It didn't help that his angel was petting him. One warm hand stroked Crowley’s hair, and the other warm hand rubbed his lower back in circles, before tracing a pattern downwards and gently patting his bottom. ‘Incorrigible,’ said Aziraphale fondly. ‘Needy. Naughty. Mine.’

Crowley gasped, even the lightest pat stimulating and arousing him. His hips flexed involuntarily. He felt himself leak into his underwear. Aziraphale’s touches continued and the demon experienced a surge of pleasure throughout his body. He tensed, sure he was going to come in his pants. His cock was twitching rapidly. The slighted touch could do it, send him over the edge. He felt powerless to stop it, his erection determined to press and rub against _anything_. He hadn't been able to pleasure himself for months, and it was finding its way out now. He tried to think about something utterly non-sexy, terrified the angel would realise, but just then, the warm hand caressing his bottom slipped between his legs and gently cupped his balls. 

Crowley hissed and bucked. 'Angel!' he warned.

‘Naughty,’ whispered the angel wickedly, knowing full well what was happening under his ministrations. Crowley's buttocks were clenching and unclenching, clearly visible through the taut denim, but Aziraphale smiled with some pride when Crowley did his demonic best to climax imperceptibly. Crowley tensed, feeling his balls tighten in Aziraphale's hand, and stifled a soft cry as the inevitable happened. His hips lurched, his erection straining against his dampened underwear and the denim, and the warm trouser-clad thigh beneath that. That was it. He came, soaking his underpants and trying desperately to still his hips, but they flexed and flexed through every undulation. He lay there breathing hard, praying his angel hadn't realised he'd come in his pants like a teenager. He stayed very still. He didn’t exist anymore. He’d been held by his angel, spanked by his angel, and now pleasured by his angel, and there was nowhere else in the universe worth being.

Aziraphale said nothing, but moved his hand and returned to rubbing Crowley's back. Eventually, thoughts returned to Crowley’s brain. He opened his eyes and remembered he was face down in a cushion. He was still being petted. He looked sheepishly up at his angel.

‘There,’ said his angel tenderly. ‘Come here.’

Still somewhat stunned, Crowley realised he was being lifted and guided off Aziraphale’s lap and onto his back on the sofa. He blinked up at his angel, who was leaning over him. There was a damp spot on the cream trousers.

‘Oops,’ said Crowley awkwardly.

‘I suppose it was inevitable,’ said Aziraphale. ‘My poor pent up demon.’

Crowley looked down at himself and grimaced, but Aziraphale was looking at him adoringly. And then he was unfastening Crowley’s jeans. 

‘Tut tut,’ teased Aziraphale, tenderly undressing the demon as if changing a small child after an accidental wetting. Crowley was too stunned by literally everything that had happened to him in the past hour to object. And in any case, he knew he was safe. Completely and utterly safe. He looked again at the stain he’d made on his angel’s trousers, and with a gentle touch, miracled it away.

‘Sorry,’ he said. 

Aziraphale smiled shyly and appreciatively, his eyes shining.

'I missed you, angel,' croaked Crowley. 

'I know, my dear.' The angel had removed the jeans and underwear and miracled them laundered and folded. 

'Didn’t mean to upset you,' said Crowley, too blissed out to either care or notice he was naked from the waist down. 

Aziraphale leaned in and kissed his tummy, then took a good look at his demon. He traced Crowley's jawline fondly. 'Hmmm. Troublemaker.' 

'You spanked me,' said Crowley, giddy with a mix of wonder and awe.

The angel smiled slyly. 'It’s my way of thwarting your next misadventure.'

'I didn’t mind it.'

'I noticed,' said Aziraphale kindly. 'And it's hardly hellfire, or holy water, or burning sulphur. Just a firm reminder for a wayward demon.'

'I like...' said Crowley, trying to brave. 'Your hands. On me.'

Aziraphale nodded. 'Well, that's good news. I very much like my hands on you too.' He spoke somewhat breathlessly. He was getting closer and closer. 

And that when Crowley’s realised what was happening. A shaky hand cradled the back of Crowley’s neck and soft lips met his. It was a passionate and demanding kiss, tongue firm and unyielding. They kissed for a while, but when they pulled apart, Crowley's eyes darted to Aziraphale's crotch. It was tented. The long, thin demonic fingers made quick work of unfastening the restrictive clothing, which Aziraphale tugged down with impressive speed. His erection bobbed out.

‘Oh,’ gasped Crowley with renewed interest. ‘ _Angel_.’

Aziraphale leaned over him gently, and Crowley saw how cloudy the blue eyes were. His steady, patient friend was almost trembling with need yet still holding it together. Aziraphale tentatively slid his length up and down that white tummy, and Crowley encouraged all of it. They kissed again somewhat brutally and crudely until a whimper from Aziraphale signalled his urgency. He was getting Crowley's belly wet. 

Crowley held his angel close to him. He'd been cross with him, even punished him. But now... the angel Aziraphale was about to come on Crowley's stomach. 

'Don't you want...' stammered Crowley. Aziraphale paused nervously. Crowley kissed him on the lips. 'Do you want me. Do you want to be... inside me?'

For a moment, Crowley thought the angel was going to faint. 

'I'm not sure I can survive that,' said Aziraphale weakly. 'I'm...' He looked down at his leaking erection.

‘It’s okay,’ said Crowley, with a shuffle, pulling his legs up. ‘I’m ready for you.’

Aziraphale groaned at the thought, extremely grateful for demonic miracles accommodating what would usually be a longer process. He gazed into those golden eyes. ' _Crowley_ ,' he breathed. 'You're sure? I don't mind...' he moved against Crowley's tummy again.

'It's okay,' insisted Crowley. 'I want you to. I really want you to.' He reached between them and took his angel's penis in his hands, guiding him to his entrance.

Aziraphale essentially _fell_ into Crowley. He sank slowly and deeply, with a succession of very unholy noises. What followed was every inch of strength Aziraphale had not to just mindlessly rut out an orgasm. 

'I missed you,' he whimpered, as he bottomed out. His breaths were from the exertion of restraint more than anything else, though Crowley kept murmuring reassurances. 

‘That’s good, angel,’ he said. ‘You’re not hurting me. That’s nice. It’s okay. Do it. Please. I need it. _Please_.’

Aziraphale started to thrust. He leaned down over Crowley, kissing his neck, breathing hard, sweating, gasping, still stroking that flaming red hair as he fucked that very same cheeky bottom. It was all happening too fast. He tried to slow down and sat back on his heels, raising Crowley’s knees up and over his shoulders. He was still impossibly gentle, and Crowley thought this was an unexpected way to die, but he was here for it. He murmured a miracle to encourage his all too human penis to overcome an inconvenient refractory period, and the next thing he knew he was frantically stroking it. He was going to come again. And then die. 

The angel steadily pounded into the demon. Blue eyes gazed into golden eyes, damp hair on sweaty foreheads and mischievous grins. They were _fucking_.

Crowley heard himself crying out, and then Aziraphale was back right above him, groaning, planting kisses on any available flesh given they’d only bothered to half undress. His moans were becoming increasingly high pitched, and his belly provided a delightful friction for Crowley’s erection, so Crowley simply wrapped his arms and legs around his angel and thrust in time with his lover - _his lover_ -and lay there, murmuring encouragements, feeling his angel slam his prostate, and thinking about how it was going to feel when Aziraphale came deep inside him. 

He didn’t have to wonder for long.

Aziraphale could not believe what he was feeling. He wanted nothing more in the world than to make love to this... naughty demon. He _loved_ this naughty demon. This mischievous, tricky, swaggering fiend. This silly, boyish miscreant, who wanted his angel's hands on him. This reckless goof in impossibly tight jeans, and that tempting pert backside which had wiggled at him for over six millennia. He'd smacked that bottom, and Crowley had let him punish him. He loved him, and he was _making love_ to him. He knew there were tears on his face, but he didn't care. All that mattered to him now was being as close to his love as possible, forever. He knew he was sweaty, grinding away, indulging his senses and pleasures like the bad angel he was. But he was _inside_ Crowley, and every cell in his corporation was about to celebrate. Oblivion beckoned. 

The angel snapped his hips, gasping and thrusting hard, the tight heat around his most sensitive area impossibly exquisite. Dimly, he worried he might soon crush his demon, but was far beyond the point of return. He cried out in fear and joy, his loss of control complete, and heard Crowley shout, followed by the sensation of come splashing between them. He'd made Crowley come twice! That undid him. He orgasmed with a silent scream, face buried in Crowley’s neck, as he came and came and came inside his demon. _His_ _Crowley_.

There was panting and trembling for several minutes before Aziraphale attempted to disentangle himself from Crowley's network of limbs. They arranged themselves pleasantly side by side, and waited until either one of them could remember how to talk.

There were no words, so they looked at each other. There was some fear, some delight, some tears, and quite a bit of giggling. And then, because they'd discovered how to, quite a bit of lazy kissing.

After a long companionable silence that could have been hours or centuries, Crowley decided to be cheeky again.

‘That’s not a very angelic way of telling me you missed me, angel,' teased Crowley.

The blue eyes narrowed playfully. ‘I am going to smack your bottom every day for the rest of our lives.’

Crowley, despite two powerful orgasms, shivered with delight. He cuddled up to his soft angel. ‘Okay, angel,’ he said sweetly. 'I'm yours to do with as you see fit.'

‘Yes, you are,’ said Aziraphale sternly. Then he held Crowley tightly to him (Crowley purred), and could not imagine ever letting go. 


End file.
